At the End of A Difficult Day, Love Endures

 

I had a tumultuous traveling day, flying from Newark to Birmingham, Alabama, with a layover in Detroit. I forgot some important items at home, which will make my travels difficult. Tonight I find myself visiting with old parish friends before I tour civil-rights sites in Alabama and attend a teachers' conference in author Harper Lee's hometown. How ironic to find myself here, in a state that has endured so much violence and racial strife, on the day a Florida jury found an unarmed black teen's killer guilty of absolutely nothing. It can be so discouraging, this search for justice.

Planting Seeds in the Face of Discouragement and Then, a Shooting

Maybe it was transitioning back to our work and home routines after a three-day getaway with my family, but this morning felt as gray as the skies. It snowed as I drove to work and then it rained while I was teaching classes. I teach struggling learners and I like to think I make a difference. But today was a day when I felt discouraged. What am I doing wrong? What can I do differently? How can I help each and every student want to learn and succeed at learning?

By lunchtime, I realized my discouragement is merely a mask for my pride. My discouragement is based on the misguided notion that I and I alone am responsible for whether a student put in front of me for 44-minute period each day wants to learn and is successful at doing so.

Pay It Forward: Shannon, the Jail Chaplain

The first murder I covered as a newspaper reporter was in 1990. By happenstance, (or maybe not)  I had interviewed the charming 17-year-old boy, Charles Hardison (shown above), just a few days ago before he was found shot to death in his mother's basement.

The long feature article I was working on about his success as a tennis player and student leader had not yet even been published. After his murder, I was able to visit his home and sit with his mother as she told me more about her son's short life. I never will forget the sound of Adlene Hardison's voice, the sad look in her eyes and the tidiness of her bedroom, where her Bible lay on her nightside table.